Sun, Sand, and Suffering Sisters
by Lowlands Girl
Summary: [Pre DH] In a beach villa in the south of France, Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour are allowed to be sisters. Genfic, oneshot.


**Author Notes**: Written for omniocular's July challenge http/community. Please leave a review; concrit is always welcome.

**Sun, Sand, and Suffering Sisters**  
_by_ Lowlands Girl

* * *

"... and I will put up streamers and conjure confetti for you, and Mama will bake such a cake as no one has seen in many years!"

Gabrielle squealed with delight. Her eighth birthday was approaching in two weeks, and it would be a glorious day. Fleur had just arrived from Beauxbatons for the summer holidays and was extremely pleased to be able to show off the new magic she'd learnt, even for such a silly thing as her younger sister's birthday party.

"And Papa? Is he planning something?" Gabrielle asked eagerly.

Fleur's eyes sparkled, and she put one slender finger to her perfect pink lips. "I believe so, my dear. But do not ask him, for he is grumpy."

Papa was always grumpy, but then he would buy them the most splendid presents: confections from Greece, silks from Thailand, furs from Ukraine. Nothing was too good for his daughters. Papa was away now, but had written to Mama saying he would be back in time for the birthday.

The two girls, who were sitting under a canopy on the veranda of the family's summer villa, shared a giggle at the thought of their Papa. It was late afternoon, and the sun was low in the Mediterranean sky. Fleur was gazing down at the beach, just visible through some trees. Gabrielle gazed at her sister, who was phenomenally beautiful at sixteen: well-sculpted cheekbones, good proportions to the nose and mouth, and wide, blue eyes; and her hair, her long, pale hair that both had inherited from their mother, and their mother from grandmama, who was the most beautiful creature alive.

Even at eight, Gabrielle knew the power of beauty. She could smile at a shop owner and he would allow her to walk out with whatever plainer girls would have had to buy. She could be a complete terror at the small _école_ she attended, and the teachers would never believe it could be the fault of such a charming child.

But with power came responsibility; grandmama had sat both her granddaughters down three years ago to speak with them sternly about the importance of grace and good humor, and of fairness and temperance, when one held such sway over people, especially men.

"For men always wish to believe they are in power," she had declared, "and life will always be easier if they think it is so."

Eventually Fleur turned her gaze from the sky and looked at Gabrielle.

"We should go in for dinner now," she said, and stood up, holding out her hand for her little sister. "Perhaps after we eat we may persuade Mama to let us down to the beach for some bathing after sunset."

* * *

Mama did indeed let them down to the beach that evening, and the next day as well, and the next. Summer was a time for children, the Delacour girls especially, to revel in childhood. It passed so quickly, so there was no sin in enjoying it as much as possible.

"I will race you to the marker!" Gabrielle challenged Fleur, as they arrived on the beach one morning.

"But it would not be fair--" Fleur protested.

"Why not?"

"I am taller than you," said Fleur simply.

"So? I've been practicing swimming all year, while you've been stuck up in that school! Just because your legs are longer does not mean they are stronger!"

Fleur sighed. "Very well. To the marker, you say?" She pointed to a distant white buoy, floating on the water.

"_Oui_. The marker, there. And we shall start from where the water reaches our knees."

"But--" Fleur stopped herself and nodded instead. "Certainly."

They shook hands, donned their goggles, then waded out into the sea, which was a brilliant blue due to the astonishingly white sand. Gabrielle stopped when the water was around her knees, but Fleur kept walking.

"Hey!" Gabrielle shouted. "That's not fair!"

"But my knees are not under water yet," said Fleur reasonably.

"But--"

"That is what we agreed to, is it not?" said Fleur, with an annoying calm. She looked at her sister's knees. "If you like, you may step closer to me, so that the water is mid-thigh."

"I need no such handicaps!" said Gabrielle, outraged at her sister forcing her to begin a race in such unfair circumstances. "We shall have a fair start, as we agreed upon."

"Very well. You may give the starting signal."

"One, two, three!" shouted Gabrielle as quick as she could, and dove underwater.

The sea was sparkling, the sand pristine white. Fleur was two or three meters in front of her already, long arms pulling against the water efficiently.

Gabrielle had indeed been practicing her swimming at home all year, but try as she might she could not close the gap between herself and Fleur. Apart from her longer limbs and stronger muscles, Fleur also had the benefit of age in the size of her lungs and her ability to pace herself, and slowly but steadily drew ahead of Gabrielle.

When Fleur touched the marker, which was about fifty meters from shore, Gabrielle wanted to rage and gibber, but instead renewed her efforts. As the two girls passed, Gabrielle was certain that Fleur would grab her and slow her down, but her sister did not even look at her; she merely continued a steady stroke, one arm after the other.

Gabrielle almost turned around before reaching the marker, but a sense of honour impelled her not to. She did, however, only brush her feet against it as she turned over and tried as hard as possible to catch her sister, who was now well ahead of her, perhaps six or seven meters.

The race was over in a few minutes. Gabrielle saw her sister's feet touch the bottom as she was still struggling in deep water. Gabrielle stopped swimming.

"I win!" said Fleur joyously, standing with her knees just underwater.

Gabrielle struggled to reach the shore. Her arms and lungs burnt with the effort.

"When I am sixteen I will be taller than you!" she shouted, tears running down her face as Fleur danced out onto the sand. "Mama always says I'm taller than you were at this age! You just wait and see!"

Furiously, Gabrielle dog-paddled the rest of the way to a place where her feet hit the water and she could walk, angry that it was so close to the edge. She took deep, heaving breaths, the world blurry through her tears. She raced up to her towel and dried herself off as fast as possible.

"Gabrielle, it is not my fault that I have longer legs than you," Fleur began, settling her long limbs on her own towel and rummaging in her bag for sunblock. "You set the terms of the race. And you did swim well--"

"I'm going back," Gabrielle announced abruptly.

Fleur looked up. "Gabrielle, _non!_ That is not allowed! We must stay together here."

"I don't care. I don't want to see you! You're so spiteful! You knew I would lose, you cheated!" This was not true, but Gabrielle was angry and would say anything.

"You cannot hate me for such a silly thing as a little race--"

"Yes I can!" screamed Gabrielle and, throwing one last spiteful look at her sister's shocked, beautiful face, ran along the path back to the villa.

* * *

Running at top speed, Gabrielle reached home in about ten minutes, a stitch aching in her side. She slammed the front door, ignored the housekeeper's reprimands as well as her mother's incredulous queries, and thundered up to her room, where she threw herself onto her bed and began to cry furiously into her pillow.

She hated her sister. She didn't ever want to see Fleur again. Fleur was so stuck-up, so proud, so unendingly fond of herself. Gabrielle was so furious and mad that she didn't know what to do but cry.

The pillow was damp already when her mother, who had only waited a half-minute downstairs, came in to put a cool hand on her daughter's sunburnt back and ask what was wrong.

Gabrielle gulped out the brief story, incoherent with her tears. To Mama's credit, she did not laugh or look annoyed, but merely smiled understandingly.

"She is sixteen," Mama said. "You are eight. You are very different people--"

And to Fleur's credit, the elder girl appeared in the doorway just then, clearly out of breath from running. She dropped the bag full of beach items and appeared to want to rush into the room; but instead she sidled in nervously. Gabrielle couldn't help noticing a broad white streak of ungainly sunblock down one leg.

Mama gave Gabrielle a kiss and stood up gracefully.

"You two should talk," she said quietly, and put one hand on her other daughter's shoulder.

Gabrielle was determined not to say anything. She rolled over so she couldn't see Fleur, and only grudgingly allowed her room on the bed.

"It's not my fault I'm taller than you, Gabrielle," Fleur said at once. "I can't help it. I'm older, almost ten years older. You can blame Mama and Papa if you wish for that!"

Gabrielle said nothing.

"I'm not sorry I'm a faster swimmer."

How like her! thought Gabrielle.

"But I am sorry it makes you sad, my sister." Fleur put a hand on her sister's shoulder. "But I would rather not let you think you are a better swimmer than you actually are. Can you agree? That I was fair not to let you win in a fair fight? At least you know exactly how well you swim now."

Gabrielle thought this over for a little while.

"All right then," she said, and allowed Fleur to pull her to her feet.

"Now," said Fleur, "shall we perhaps write some invitations for your party?"

"If you like," said Gabrielle coolly.

"If I let you use my pink parchment?"

Gabrielle could not help a smile now. "That would be acceptable."

Arm in arm, the two girls set out for the veranda.

_-fin-_


End file.
